The not so safe gift
by AirborneGirl
Summary: Deeks got Kensi a safe gift. But really, does he still want to be safe? A different take on the "Humbug" episode.


**The not so safe gift**

AN: Here's my contribution to some Holiday cheer. I've not seen the episode "Humbug" yet, only the kissing scene (about a hundred times or so), so I don't know what day it was that they were on the ice rink. Since this story was already forming in my head before I saw this scene, I had to tweak it a little so it would all fit. So the skating happened in my story, but the kiss didn't. Hope it makes sense and you like it.

Merry Christmas to all of you and all happiness and health in 2015!

Disclaimer: The characters of NCIS: LA are not mine. I'm merely borrowing them for some holiday cheer, than handing them back unharmed. Promise. Now, on with the story…

**Part I: Deeks**

Time is running out. At a fast, maddening pace. The window of opportunity you have to get on the right track with her is closing. And yet, you have no idea how to proceed from the standstill you find yourself in with Kensi.

It's so nerve-wrecking, it's the complete opposite of everything you had promised yourself last Christmas, when she was far far away from you, in a dangerous place and without you to watch her back. After that muck appreciated, yet highly unsatisfying satellite call, during which you neither had the privacy nor the guts to say anything truly meaningful, you swore to yourself that next year, it would be different. Next year, she would be back and the two of you were going to be together, as partners on the job and in private.

Your thing would evolve and bloom into something real, something good.

It is the next year now. As of yet, a lot of things have happened and surely you've grown closer still (if the nights you spend together falling asleep on her of your couch count for anything), but nothing that has happened had actually gotten you anywhere near your resolution of the year before.

It's your fear, coupled with hers, coupled with all the stressful demands of the job, coupled with a whole bunch of crap that shouldn't matter anything whatsoever, but for some reason seem to matter a whole lot.

You're so tired of hiding like a whimpering child though, so tired of being too scared to reach out and grab what appears to be right in front of you and what you want the most.

That damn frozen lake!

And, as you said, time is running out. It's December 23rd and you haven't even asked her how or where or with whom she's going to spend the upcoming holidays. Nor has she asked you about your plans. Now you know she all but abhors Christmas, but even she shouldn't be alone, especially not this year. Not now. You couldn't bear the thought of it.

If only you could find the guts to simply ask her, but these days, simply asking Kensi anything is like opening Pandora's box (oh no, not with the boxes again; you can't stand all those metaphors), filled with opportunities both of you are, for reasons unknown, too afraid to face, let alone deal with in an adult manner.

And just as you thought you had enough to deal with, in comes Joelle and the 'safe gift theory'. Damn her for making you think of the bottle of perfume you keep giftwrapped in your locker at the mission, waiting for the annual office party to start. Talk about safe. Perfume. And a small bottle too. So she doesn't have to feel overly embarrassed if she doesn't like the fragrance. Or if she too has opted for just a generic trinket to give to you…

What were you thinking? And what will Kensi think when you give it to her?

You can, no, you have to do better that that. Even if it's already the 23rd. Shops all around town are open almost all night and as long as you're willing to pay, you can get every online order delivered, wrapped and all, guaranteed before Christmas Eve. You pity the delivery boys. Their job these days could get about as messy and frustrating as yours.

But then again, they don't have a partner like you do.

And she deserves something better than a safe gift. No matter what you get in return.

As quickly as possible, you type up the mandatory reports, for once not caring about the chewing out you might get from either Bates or Hetty or Granger or whoever is going to read this when they see all the spelling and grammatical errors you usually don't make (not a lot anyway). You're a man on a mission now and there's no more time to waste.

With a quick goodbye to your teammates, you sprint to your car, grab some take-out on the way, go home to walk and feed Monty and get back in the car within the hour, a little winded, but determined. As you drive toward Rodeo Drive, a plan starts forming in your mind. By the time you reach your first destination, slightly out of breath, you know exactly what to do…

**KDKDKDKDKD**

Thank God for small favors. Apparently, even the biggest criminal minds have stopped the plotting of world dominance for the holidays and are having a nice dinner underneath their Christmas tree, singing carols and promising peace on Earth, probably without even noticing the irony.

The day goes by without a hitch and at 5:30 PM Hetty calls it a day and starts doling out the first (re)gifts. Nell is in charge of the eggnog and Sam comes in with a huge tray of freshly baked cookies, courtesy of wife and daughter.

Casually munching on a red painted Santa, you hand Kensi her gift. With a soft smile, she hands you yours in return. On the count of three, you both rip them open. For a moment, you're focused entirely on the handsome and functional utility knife in your hands, with your initials engraved in the handle. Underneath it is printed.

"Not just a knife."

You smile, again glad you've gone through yesterday's rollercoaster shopping spree. This is, after all, a huge admission, spoken in fluent Kensi.

"Wow. This is beautiful, Fern. Thank you. I love it."

You give her a hug, keeping it very much PG and your biggest smile, but don't fail to notice she looks rather disappointed at the bottle she's holding. Yet, in true Bad-ass Blye style, she forces a smile on her face and looks up at you.

"You're welcome, partner. And thanks for the perfume. It's…real nice."

It's all over her face. She knows it's a safe gift and she really doesn't like it one bit. Not after the message she is trying to convey with the inscription on the knife.

Well, don't worry, Princess. Your real gift is waiting, but you won't get it in public. It's anything but safe. And very personal. For your eyes only.

As more gifts are being exchanged and more of the eggnog is consumed (you could really use a few more glasses to soothe your nerves, but don't take a refill, wanting to keep your wits about you), Kensi's mask is again firmly in place as she thanks Nell for the collection of girlie movies and Callen for the crystal tumblers. If it wasn't for the slight sagging of her shoulders only you detect, you might think she's simply happy to be celebrating with her teammates again after feeling so alone in a hostile country the year before.

After a few hours, the party comes to an end, the quite sober Sam taking Callen home, Eric volunteering to carpool with the slightly inebriated, giggly Nell, Hetty disappearing as she always does and leaving you in charge of a tipsy Kensi, who, in sharp contrast with her friend, is not a happy camper. Her acting skills diluted by the alcohol, she allows her disappointment to seep through the cracks in her otherwise concrete veneer. It shows in the careless way she stuffs the bottle into her purse, mouth set in a thin line.

She remains perfectly silent on the drive home and you fill in the blanks with casual, semi-cheerful holiday chatter.

You stop at her place and after some fumbling with the seatbelt, she gets out of the car, quickly wishing you a merry Christmas, before slamming the door shut.

This is it. The moment.

"Princess?"

She turns, annoyed now. You're keeping her from her moment of well-deserved wallowing. That and breaking in those tumblers, no doubt.

"What?"

"You forgot your gift."

With a snort, she scoops up the bottle from her purse.

"No, I didn't. It's right here."

You smile at her, grabbing the gift bag from under the seat of your car.

"It's not your real gift, Fern. I got you something more."

When she doesn't seem inclined to come and get it (tipsy Kensi is even more stubborn than sober Kensi apparently), you kill the engine and get out yourself, practically shoving the golden paper bag in her hands.

"I didn't want to give it to you in front of the entire team. It's for your eyes only, Kensalina."

You don't wait for an acknowledgement of any kind, you just turn and get back into your car. From the open window, you tell her:

"I'll be at the shelter as usual. You know, just in case you'd want to know."

She nods, holding the bag like it contains a time bomb and while you're still communicating in metaphors, it might as well be. Having done what you set out to do, you rev the engine and get on your way.

It's all in her hands now…

**KDKDKDKDKDKDKDKD**

**Part II: Kensi**

Perfume. He got you a bottle of perfume. And you could have easily killed him for his…his what really? His lack of guts? His holding back yet again? Or should you take a good look in the mirror first? Oh well, at least he liked the knife. And maybe you're better off as partners anyway.

If only your heart would believe it too.

You think you did a good job of hiding your disappointment, for your other teammates anyway. Perhaps not for him, but you couldn't be bothered, really. After all, how much gratitude can you show over a bottle of freakin' perfume!

You kind of hoped for more.

But now, as you watch the taillights of his car disappear around the corner, you're kind of afraid of what you wished for. This bag he just gave you…could it…do you want it to…mean something?

Yes, yes you do! And he was so secretive about it, it must be something meaningful. Perhaps even…

Well, you'll never find out unless you gather the guts to actually open it.

Taking a relaxing (as if…) breath, you take the pretty golden bag inside and after pouring yourself a stiff drink just in case you're in for a major blow again, you gather all your guts and dive in, taking out a blue box, tied with a pretty white ribbon.

Your hand is shaking as you tug at the bow. The ribbon comes loose and you lift the lid. There's an envelope, which reads 'open me'. So you do. A card comes out and you gasp.

To anyone else, it's nothing more than a picturesque winter landscape. An island full of trees covered in snow. Sitting in the middle of a lake. A deeply frozen lake. You open the card, the trembling intensifies. Again, you gasp. There's a picture in the middle of Deeks on skates, taken yesterday afternoon after you interviewed Joelle. Underneath it, two words are scribbled. 'Crossed it'.

It's that easy, apparently.

But the card's not the only thing in the box. Wrapped in soft tissue paper is a soft, furry toy animal. One with a striped tail. A naughty looking raccoon is looking up at you with twinkling plastic eyes. He has a collar around his neck like a dog and on the tag, is reads 'for life'.

Oh God…

Still, that's not all. The little creature holds yet another box (recognizing a theme Kensi?) in its paws. It's blue. Like, Tiffany blue.

Oh God…

Shivering like a Chihuahua by now, you open the small box on its hinges to reveal…

A necklace. With three heart shaped pendants, entwined. It's simple, yet stunning, and the last of all the metaphors you've both been hiding behind for far too long.

This…this was no safe gift. This is…

Taking a closer look, you find yet another note stuck in the box. You fold it open and read:

_The box has been opened_

_The frozen lake crossed_

_The hearts are aligned_

_The raccoon is ready_

_And so am I._

_Are you?_

Good question. And yet, not as scary as you imagined. Neither is the answer.

Yes.

Definitely.

Completely sober and no longer shaking, you grab the jewelry box, the raccoon and the card, stuff it all back into the gift bag, spray on some perfume and call a taxi, remembering your car is still in the mission's parking lot.

The driver isn't a talker and you tip him royally for his silence as well as the fact he's working on Christmas Eve. Clenching the bag in your hands, you take one more deep breath and walk into the warm, busy homeless shelter, where Deeks volunteers every year.

For one second, the overwhelming heat of cooked food and a mass of people knocks you back, but you soldier on, dodging people holding plates and mumbling well wishes as they pass.

A motherly figure you believe is called Angela makes her way over to you the moment she spots you coming in.

"Hello, my dear. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too."

"I think you're looking for Marty?"

At your nod, she grins.

"I thought he was expecting someone special. Kept looking at the door, all distracted. Cut his finger too in the kitchen. I had to get him out of there for his own safety. I put him in charge of entertaining the little ones. They're gathered over there in the corner."

She points you in the right direction before excusing herself and turning back to the kitchen. As you approach the kid's corner, a loud bark is heard as Monty almost trips over himself in his haste to get to you. Laughing, you kneel down and rub his furry head as he drools his puppy love all over your boots.

At the sound of his dog, Deeks has looked up and over the top of Monty's head, your eyes meet his. A hesitant smile forms on his handsome face and automatically, you smile back. A question is asked with his expressive blue orbs and is answered by your widening smile and a nod.

_Are you ready?_

_Yes. Yes! Oh Yes!_

Excusing himself with the kids, handing the book he was reading from to the oldest girl in the group, he gets up from his place of honor on the floor and takes your hand, leading you to the backdoor, where you can talk in private.

Out there, behind the dumpsters (how lovely cliché), you carefully take the jewelry box from the bag and open it, admiring the sparks in the dim streetlights. You pry it loose from its confinements and hand it to Deeks. His eyebrows lift in question and as an answer, you turn and pull your hair away.

You hear him fumble with the clasp, muttering a curse when his big male hands take quite some time in handling it, but then you feel him standing closer behind you, fastening the necklace around your slim neck, kissing the spot where the clasp rests against your skin. It send a delicious little shiver down your spine.

You turn back to face him, smiling when you see the small smile in his own face. A happy smile. A hopeful smile.

"So…eh…I gather you like it?"

One tiny step closer.

"I love it."

His arms reach out and his hands grip your upper arms tightly.

"And the raccoon?"

You close the last, tiny gap between the two of you, but keep your eyes locked with his.

"Here to stay."

He sighs, his grin as wide as it can get.

"The frozen lake?"

Another volunteer opens the backdoor, carrying a heavy trash bag, which he throws in one of the dumpsters without even noticing you. A waft of heated air hits the two of you straight in the face and you giggle.

"I think it's thawing pretty quickly. In fact, I'm feeling pretty warm right now."

"Perhaps that's just us."

"Perhaps."

Another smile. He's so close, so warm, so totally and completely yours for the taking.

"Deeks?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"What does a girl have to do to get a kiss these days?"

He chuckles, but then his handsome face turns serious for a moment.

"She has to say answer the question. Using words. Real ones. Out loud."

You remember the question. _I am ready. Are you?_

There's no hesitation in your voice or your hearts, either three of them as you look him in the eyes.

"Yes Marty Deeks. I'm ready. For life."

His lips immediately descend upon yours.

It's anything but safe.

But hey, safety is highly overrated anyway.

THE END

So…Like it? Your thoughts are, as always, much appreciated.


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